Chapter 2

Chapter 2

POV: Amelie

"Alright," I said softly. "I’ll take your place. But only until your child turns two."

A wide smile appeared on Amora’s face. Without wasting any time, she pulled out her large bag and began taking out her expensive clothes, ordering me to change into them immediately.

Three hours later, a luxurious black car stopped in front of the towering iron gates of the most exclusive residential area in the capital.

I sat in the back seat, nervously clutching Amora’s loose cashmere dress. My heart was pounding so hard that it felt as though it might leap out of my chest. Amora had left for the airport an hour ago, leaving me with only brief instructions about her luxurious life.

The driver opened the door. I stepped out hesitantly, staring at the magnificent Blackthorne residence that looked both unfamiliar and intimidating.

"Welcome, Madam," greeted a middle-aged woman in a neat maid’s uniform as she bowed respectfully.

I merely nodded softly, trying to imitate the arrogance Amora had taught me. "Where... where is my baby?" I asked as naturally as possible, even though my throat felt dry.

"The young master is in the nursery on the second floor, Madam. The master has also just returned from the office and is there."

My steps halted for a moment. Reyvano was upstairs.

Gathering what little courage I had left, I climbed the spiral staircase covered with thick carpeting. Every step felt unbearably heavy. My chest began to throb more intensely, not only because of my anxiety, but also because my natural maternal instinct responded faintly to the sound of a baby crying at the end of the corridor.

I walked toward the slightly open, intricately carved teakwood door. Warm light spilled from inside the nursery.

When I slowly pushed the door open, the sight inside made me hold my breath.

A tall, well-built man stood beside the baby crib. His shoulders were broad, and he wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His charisma was incredibly strong, radiating a cold, dominant aura even from behind. The man was rocking a small crib with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his muscular build.

That was Reyvano Zayden Blackthorne.

As if sensing my presence, the man turned around. His sharp, dark eyes immediately locked onto mine. There was no smile on his stern face, framed by a strong jawline.

"Where have you been, Amora?" Reyvano’s voice was deep and heavy, echoing faintly beneath the baby’s soft cries.

His gaze slowly traveled down from my eyes, following the curves of my body, which was much fuller than usual, before stopping directly at my breasts, swollen with breast milk. For a moment, I saw a change in his eyes—a sharp glint that I could hardly interpret, somewhere between surprise and an intimidating intensity.

"Our child has been crying for a while," he continued coldly as he stepped toward me. "He’s hungry."

I froze in place, stunned by the baby in his arms. In an instant, all my fear evaporated, replaced by a maternal instinct that burned through my soul. Without thinking about the risk of my disguise anymore, I stepped forward and held out both hands.

"Give him to me," I whispered softly, and for the first time in a month, my chest no longer felt empty.

Reyvano stared at me for a moment with his sharp eyes, untouched by emotion, before finally extending the baby in his arms toward me. The moment my fingers touched the soft fabric wrapped around the tiny body, a shiver ran through me. I held him tightly against my chest, breathing in the familiar scent of a baby that immediately soothed the turmoil inside my soul.

This child was so small. His delicate features and soft cries awakened the maternal instinct within me that had almost died.

"Quickly, breastfeed our child," Reyvano said briefly, his deep voice breaking the silence. He watched my every movement carefully.

My heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. I quickly lowered my head, hiding the tremor in my eyes. "Alright, I’ll breastfeed him in our bedroom."

Without waiting for his response, I turned around and half-ran toward the master bedroom. Earlier, Amora had shown me a layout of this magnificent house through a video so that I wouldn’t appear awkward.

As soon as the bedroom door closed tightly behind me, I locked it from the inside and let out the long breath I had been holding in my throat.

I sat on the edge of the soft king-size bed. With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned Amora’s cashmere dress, freeing my swollen, tense breasts. The little baby immediately searched for that source of nourishment by instinct. As soon as his tiny lips latched on and began sucking ravenously, the pain that had been building in my breasts slowly eased. Tears of emotion streamed down my cheeks. My baby who had passed away never had the chance to experience this, but my nephew was now receiving its warmth.

"Drink as much as you can, sweetheart..." I whispered very softly, stroking his delicate, flushed cheek.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key turning in the lock from outside. The doorknob moved downward. I jolted in surprise. Hadn’t I locked it earlier? Before I could react, the door swung wide open.

Reyvano stood there, holding a spare key in his hand.

"Why is this door locked?" he asked flatly as he casually stepped into the bedroom.

Fear instinctively took over, and I immediately pulled the front of my dress up, covering my chest with my palm and the fabric as best I could, hiding the sight from his eyes. My breathing quickened, and my eyes widened as I stared at him.

"W-why did you come in again?" I asked in panic, my voice slightly shrill.

"Is something wrong?" Reyvano stopped directly in front of the bed. His thick eyebrows drew together, creating a faint crease on his forehead. "Why are you hiding yourself?" he asked, his voice filled with both confusion and displeasure. "I’m your husband."

Those words struck my mind.

I had forgotten. To this man, I was Amora, his wife who had given birth to his child and shared his bed. But to me, he was a stranger. My brother-in-law.

"I... I just..." My words became tangled in my throat. I was at a loss for what excuse to give without revealing the truth.

Reyvano let out a short sigh. His gaze softened slightly when he saw the baby in my lap, who had begun to whimper because his feeding had suddenly been interrupted.

"Expose it. Poor child, he’s still hungry," Reyvano whispered, his voice lowering but carrying an emphasis that could not be challenged.

I swallowed with difficulty. My lips trembled. But hearing the baby’s soft whimpers, I had no other choice. Hesitantly, with embarrassment burning across my entire face, I slowly lowered the fabric of the dress again. My exposed chest once again offered breast milk to the tiny baby in my arms. I lowered my head deeply, too afraid to meet the eyes of the man standing before me.